


victory is a long march

by Mayarene Rose (Paradise_of_Mary_Jane)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [16]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I will get my happy ending if it kills me, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21043541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradise_of_Mary_Jane/pseuds/Mayarene%20Rose
Summary: The nightmares never really stop. It’s almost funny. No matter how far they try to run, no matter how many years pass, they still can’t help but feed those things that are never satisfied, that took so much from them already. No matter what they do, the fear never really goes away.Martin wakes up to an empty bed.It's been a year since they left the Magnus Institute. Now, Jon and Martin try to heal.





	victory is a long march

**Author's Note:**

> Day 17 (Alternate prompt): Nightmares

The nightmares never really stop. It’s almost funny. No matter how far they try to run, no matter how much time passes, they still can’t help but feed those things that are never satisfied, that took so much from them already. No matter what they do, the fear never really goes away.

Martin wakes up to an empty bed. 

The bedroom’s quiet. The sheets on the other side are warm and rumpled, but it still doesn’t stop his heart from jumping in his throat. They’re a long way from the busy world of London, which is probably for the best, but, that also means it’s too quiet. It’s the middle of winter and he shivers despite having the heating turned up.

He can’t quite make himself breathe for a while, can’t make himself move.The silence is deafening and if he closes his eyes, he can feel the cold touch of the fog against his skin.

Martin keeps his eyes open.

It takes him too long to see the light on in the kitchen, hear the muffled shuffle of footsteps. And it’s the whistle of the electric kettle that fully snaps him out of his panic.

Martin climbs out of bed slowly and quietly. He still can’t shake away the feeling that he has to keep quiet all the time, that he absolutely cannot disturb the silence. He knows he should, knows he’s safe, and he’s okay, but.

Just one of those things, he guesses. At any rate, it’s not the worst thing he has left over from before.

The journey to the kitchen is slow and he tries to convince himself that he’s shivering instead of trembling. Quiet. The fog hasn’t touched him in months, but Martin keeps his eyes peeled. His heart is pounding in his chest and he can’t stop himself from thinking _what if what if what if what if_

“Jon,” he calls out, just as he crosses the threshold. He can’t help the sigh of relief that comes when he says the familiar figure leaning against the countertop, nursing a mug of earl grey.

Martin can’t make himself move, so he just stands there, leaning against the doorway, and drinking in the sight of Jon.

Jon is real. Jon is there. Jon’s always been there for the past year. Martin isn’t alone.

Jon looks up, surprised. He looks exhausted. There are dark bags under his eyes and his body is slumped as if weighed down. Still, he’s a sight better than he did a year ago. There’s color in his cheeks and he looks calmer. Martin’s learned to take what victory he can get, and seeing Jon like this? 

It’s a pretty big victory.

“Martin,” Jon says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You were gone,” Martin says.

Jon immediately looks stricken, immediately understands. The guilt at causing it still doesn’t hurt the way it should. Guilt and regret doesn’t rise up in his throat the way he remembers it used to. He wonders if that part of him died along the way. He wonders if he should be mourning it.

“Martin I--” Jon starts to say, but Martin is already shaking his head. He steps closer to Jon and busies himself with the kettle, fixing up his own cup of tea. Their shoulders brush and it warms him up a little bit. His heart begins to slow.

“Don’t be silly,” he says. “You’re still here. You didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s not like he expects Jon to be at his side at every moment. Martin can handle himself most of the time. He’s even making friends and getting to know the people in the neighborhood. The conversations were real and Martin even managed a real smile from time to time. He’s coping. It’s been a year and it’s not as bad as it used to be.

It’s just some nights. Some nights are too cold and too quiet. His therapist tells him he shouldn’t hate himself for that and he’s trying.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jon says, completely serious and sincere.

Martin pours the hot water in the mug and drops the tea bag into it. Two lumps of sugar, a dash of milk. He takes a deep breath, then another, then another, as he lets the words sink in.

“I know,” he says. He takes a sip of his drink and glances towards Jon. “Are you doing okay? Nightmares again?”

Jon shrugs. His mug’s on the counter, half-finished and essentially forgotten unless Martin reminds him of it.

“Just normal ones,” he says.

He probably means it’s not the kind of nightmare where he literally re-lives someone else’s fear with them. Martin doesn’t think that makes it essentially better, or any less disturbing, but he’s not Jon. 

“Want to talk about it?”

Jon shrugs again. Martin waits. In another life, it might have meant no or go away, but that was a long time ago. Now, Jon’s shrugs are just shrugs, and Martin trusts himself enough to take them for what they are.

Martin has to tell himself that. Has to force himself to stay and not just immediately leave at the things left unsaid. It doesn’t get easier to do, exactly, but it’s not getting harder, so there’s that. 

He takes every victory he can.

“Not tonight,” Jon says, shaking his head like he’s shaking away memories behind his eyes. Martin won’t even begin to guess what he saw. Could be anything really. “In the morning, perhaps.”

“Alright,” Martin says. Jon may talk about it in the morning, or he may not. Either way, Martin understands not wanting to talk about it in the dark. He can’t imagine he’d be much help on that front, either. “What do you want to do, then?” he asks, because Jon could never go back to sleep after a nightmare and Martin’s not eager to go back to the too quiet bedroom, either.

“There’s a new documentary I’ve been wanting to see,” Jon says, after a beat. “I queued it up on Netflix.”

Martin snorts. He can’t help it. Jon’s relationship with Netflix is kind of hilarious, especially now that he has a lot of time on his hands. He has the strangest taste in films. Martin finds it completely fascinating.

“I’ll set it up on the couch,” Martin says, pushing himself off the counter. “Finish your tea.”

Jon startles. He automatically picks up his mug and takes another sip out of it. He shoots Martin a small smile. Martin smiles back before walking towards the living room. He turns on the light and it makes the room feel warmer.

**Author's Note:**

> pls talk to me about this podcast on [tumblr](https://acediscowlng.tumblr.com). my crops are dying.


End file.
